it is only with the heart that one can see
by thesapphireknight
Summary: Sometimes the Knight saves the Maiden, and sometimes the Maiden saves the Knight. *Work-in-Progress, but I know where this one is ending, and I can't wait to get there. Feedback is more than welcomed!*
1. Chapter 1

Sansa Stark had changed. She was no longer the fool child, perpetually gazing doe-eyed at princes and smiling when someone complimented her needlework. Life at King's Landing had crushed the "little dove," and a young woman with the inner strength of a wolf had emerged from her ashes.

Joffrey had made a pact with the Tyrells, the second most powerful family in the Seven Kingdoms, and was engaged to be married to Margaery Tyrell, a great beauty. As the daughter of a traitor, Sansa was no longer good enough to marry the precious King, but she soon discovered she was good enough to entertain him when he tired of hunting. The first time he called on her, she had expected to be beaten. But what came after was far worse. She was fortunate that it had only been two of his officers then, but The Hound, The Mountain, and many others followed, and she soon learned the meaning of true pain.

She was given her own room, attendants, food and clothing, but for all of this pretense she was little more than a prisoner, and always on her guard for the coming torture that inevitably followed the setting sun. Sitting at the table, dressed for dinner, Sansa would watch Joffrey like a hawk, carefully counting the cups of wine the King would consume. On the rare occasion that he only drank one or two, she could count on being spared. But if he motioned for a third, her heart would freeze, and she was never able to eat much more after that. She knew she was wasting away. After a while her servant, Shea, began bringing her extra meals to keep her from fainting in public. When the news arrived of her brother and mother's death, most thought it would be the end of her. She rarely left her rooms except when ordered. The King's uncle, Lord Tyrion, visited her once, and was the first man in the entire castle to speak kindly to her. Upon seeing her condition, he prevailed upon his nephew to let her out to go riding. She was allowed this modicum of freedom, but was always surrounded by guards. Still, it did bring some spark back into her eyes.

It was on one such ride that her life changed.


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa subtly adjusted her mount in the saddle, her legs growing weary after being out for so long, but she hoped to press her luck a little further. She was in no way eager to make her way back to the castle. Joffrey's guards rode behind her, just out of earshot but always in sight, looming should she try to make an escape. She wondered why they bothered. Really, the idea was almost laughable. She would not have the first clue which direction to point her horse.

She had reached the small river on the outskirts of King's Landing, and had just dismounted to take her horse to water, when the tallest man she'd ever seen stepped forward from behind the tree. His legs like young saplings, tall, willowly, and strong, and arms that gracefully held a longsword in front of a broad chest, and his face - Sansa started. It was the face of a woman. Cropped blonde hair framed a plain, but not unpleasant, face, devoid of makeup and instead colored with dirt and flush from exertion.

Before any of her guards could even utter a word, they were quickly and methodically cut down where they stood. Sansa watched, wide-eyed, as the woman disposed of each of them, men considered to be some of the best swords in the Seven Kingdoms. Suddenly she realized the woman was kneeling in front of her, and she forced herself to pay attention to what she was saying.

"Sansa Stark, I am Brienne of Tarth. I serve your mother, Lady Catelyn." The woman paused, as if waiting for Sansa to speak. She realized she had no idea what to say, but slowly persuaded her head to nod up and down. It seemed enough, for the blonde continued. "I swore and oath to your mother, that I would bring the Kingslayer to King's Landing, and return you to her safe and sound. I intend to keep my word." It wasn't until then that Sansa noticed a tall horse, with a comatose man strapped onto it. More than a second's glance and she recognized him as a very dirty Jaime Lannister. "Is he dead?" she whispered, finally finding her voice. "No, my lady, he lives. But he is very ill." Sansa smiled at the annoyance she heard in the woman's voice. The smile felt odd on her face, and she had to resist the urge to touch her cheeks.

Suddenly, she remembered something the woman of Tarth had said. "You serve my mother..." The woman nodded. Sansa swallowed painfully. "I regret to tell you that my mother was murdered some weeks ago." The tall blonde slowly inclined her head. After a moment, she looked up again. "I will still fulfill my oath, and then I will serve you, my lady, if you will have me." Brienne of Tarth unsheathed her sword, and kneeling, held it up to Sansa.

Sansa fought to keep the puzzled look off her face. "Serve me? Are you a knight, my lady?" The blonde's face twisted in disgust. "I am no woman, lady Sansa. And I am a better knight than most you will meet." Sansa quickly recovered. "Forgive me, Brienne of Tarth. Ser Brienne. I am witness to your skill with a sword. I am just unaccustomed with female knights. If you would serve me, then I am yours-" She broke off, struggling to remember the words. "I vow...that you will always have a place at my table, and...that I shall never ask any service of you which would impune upon your honor. I swear it, by the old gods, and the new."

Brienne stood, sheathing her sword once more, and made to get her horse. "My lady, it would be best that we quit this place now. I shall send the Kingslayer off towards the castle and-" A sudden whizzing noise caught Sansa's attention, and she turned to look from whence it came, whipping her head back when she heard a gasp from Brienne. The knight stood with a crossbow arrow sticking out from her shoulder. Before Sansa could even think, the clearing was overcome by the King's Guard. She saw The Mountain riding towards her, and suddenly everything was black.


	3. Chapter 3

_In her dream, Sansa stood in a wood, watching as her mother comforted a tall blonde woman dressed in armor. The woman had lost someone very precious to her, and Lady Catelyn was slowly bringing her back from the brink of despair. _

_Sansa watched as the woman- Brienne, she remembered- knelt, and held out a sword to her mother. _

_She saw the kindness in her mother's eye, and also the shock and gratefulness. _

_She saw the honor in Brienne's eye, and also the pain and determination. _

_And, quite suddenly, she also saw the beauty._

When she awoke, Sansa found herself back in her bed at King's Landing. The sun was setting, casting grotesque shadows on the floor. She could have sworn she dreamed it all, the ride, the wood, the fight and capture, except for the rather large and tender knot that was growing on the back of her head.

Down the hallway, a door slammed, and she jumped. Harsh steps could be heard coming down the passageway, and she steeled herself for a visit from Joffrey. The door was flung wide open...and Lord Tyrion the imp entered with his sellsword, Bronn. Sansa exhaled a sign of relief. Tyrion had always been kind to her.

Tyrion bowed to Sansa and to Shea. "My lady, please forgive the intrusion. But it is good to see you awake."

Sansa's head felt cloudy, but she needed news. "I thank you, Lord Tyrion. I do not know...would you please tell me what has happened?" Tyrion motioned for a cup of wine, and sat down on the chest at the foot of her bed. "You were brought back late yesterday afternoon, and have been out cold ever since. As you may have surmised, The Maid of Tarth was unsuccessful in killing all of your guards. And the fortunate escapee came back to return with the hoard."

Sansa felt her face scrunch. "The Maid of Tarth? ...Do you mean Brienne?"

Tyrion smiled, but without much behind it. "Yes. Lady Brienne will most likely be a maid until she dies, or is sold off for a wife. That is the lot with broken things, I should know. She is a good and loyal woman, but her ideals are too pure to do her aught but harm."

"I think she's wonderful." Sansa said, before she could stop herself. And she found it was true. In the short while that she had spoke with the Maid, she felt sure that she had met the most gallant and chivalrous person ever to walk this earth.

"Then I should warn you that she is convicted for the maiming of my brother Jaime." Sansa felt her blood run cold. "Maiming?"

"Yes," Tyrion sighed. "It seems my brother is missing a hand, or rather an identity. For without his sword hand, who knows who he is anymore? My sister is furious. And we all know what that means."

Sansa rose from bed, "Where is she?" She motioned for Shae to begin dressing her. Tyrion stood, placing down his cup. "She is in one of the holding rooms in the North Tower. She was found guilty this morning, and awaits a sentence from my sister, but I think she will be used as amusement on Joffrey's Name Day, whatever the outcome."

Sansa's stomach churned. She knew what that would mean. Joffrey would probably find much pleasure in watching the fierce knight be brought to her knees. With a sudden strength she didn't know she possessed, Sansa determined that she would not allow it to happen.

"I want to see her." Tyrion looked at her, puzzled, but recovered quickly. "Of course, my lady. Only, allow me to send Bronn with you. It would ease my nerves." Sansa nodded, and departed quickly, following Bronn with Shae right behind her.

When they reached the tower, Sansa bid the other two to stand outside. She went to the door, peering through the small window in at the room. Brienne stood, like an Amazon Queen, in the middle of the room, stooping slightly to see out the window. She had been stripped down to her smallclothes, and looked even more out of place than she had in her armor.

"Ser Brienne." Sansa spoke, and the woman turned to her, eyes widening a bit before nodding. "Lady Sansa."

Sansa felt a ghost of a smile on her lips, and moved closer to the door. "Have they hurt you, my knight?" she asked, dreading the answer. Brienne's eyes closed, barely betraying a hint of wonder and awe at being claimed by the one she had come to seek, before shaking her head. "No, my lady. I am well." A small silence lapsed. "I am sorry, my lady. My failure has caused us to be captured once more..." Sansa held up her hand, not able to take the anguish marring the Maid's features.

"Ser Brienne, I have every confidence in you. As did my mother, I am sure. However, I am not a helpless girl. I will find a way to get you out of here. I must, for I know what they have planned for you. And when I do, we shall escape here together. Are we in agreement?" Brienne nodded, and her head was held a little higher.

Sansa thought she saw something akin to respect dancing within those sapphire eyes.

"Good. Then, please do not fight your guards, unless your life is threatened. It will only make things worse. My maid will see to it that you have food and water, and I will come to you again when the castle sleeps."

Sansa reached through the barred window into the room. Brienne made the cross in one long stride, and held her hand gently, as though afraid to break it. She pressed one reverent kiss onto the back of it, and made to release it, but Sansa caught her hand quickly, and made eye contact. "I am glad you are here, Ser Knight. Although I am much changed from the helpless maiden, I fear I would have wasted away had you not come."

Much later, in her room, Sansa was being prepared for bed when Shae rushed in, a look of barely contained panic disguising her normally calm features.

Sansa immediately dismissed her other maids, dreading the news.

"It's Brienne, my lady. She is no longer in the tower."


	4. Chapter 4

Sansa awoke with a gasp. Her room was dark, lit only by a sliver of a moon.

She wondered what had waked her, until she heard the soft knock again. Rising from her bed, she wrapped her nightdress tightly around her shaking body and went to the door. "Yes?" she whispered.

"My lady," the hoarse voice of Tyrion greeted her ears, "I beg your pardon, but there's something we must speak about."

Sansa stepped back, opening the door. Tyrion stood just outside, Bronn just behind him, looming in the darkness. "My lord, what is it you wish to speak with me about?" She said softly. "Sansa, Bronn has heard whispers of Brienne."

Her heart lept up into her throat as she beckoned him inside, but Tyrion simply shook his head. "We must act now if we wish to help her. We do not have time for explanations." Although frightened, Sansa joined them in the hall without a second thought.

Brienne. Her knight needed her, and she would not let her down.

Bronn led the way through dark hallways, lit only by the ambient light from the night's sky. They wound their way from passageway to hallway to backstaircase, down down down into the dungeons. Sansa began to feel a little light-headed, thinking of her knight in a place like this, dark and dank and smelling of rat-feces.

Suddenly Bronn halted them. Voices could be heard not too far off. Sneering, ugly voices that pierced the dark with a venom. "...laid there and took it, didn't she? Ugly big brute of a woman, I guess your cunt works as well as any other..."

Sansa gasped and closed her eyes, feeling her heart turn to stone. _Maid of Tarth_. The words echoed in her mind. A maid no longer, then. She was not even able to spare her that.

Sansa started as she felt Tyrion's hand on her arm, and looked up to see where Bronn was disappearing around the corner. There was a gasp, a gurgle, and the sound of steel on bone, and then Bronn was peering around the corner, nodding to Tyrion, who led them both forward.

Rounding the corner, Sansa stepped over one bloody carcasses to confront the man Bronn held, kneeling, with a sword to his throat. "Why did they take her?" she demanded of him. The man spit at her feet, and Bronn nicked a chunk from his throat. "Fine," he hissed. "They took her because the King found out about her plans to rescue the lady Sansa, and of her admiration for the bitch."

Sansa's eyes watered. _Her fault_. She nodded towards Bronn, and moved towards the only locked cell, hardly noticing the sound of the man dying. She could barely make out a huddled mass in the corner before Bronn was there, unlocking the door, and she was able to move inside.

Brienne was naked and shaking, curled in on herself, and Sansa could see the dried blood between her legs, and the bruises beginning to form across her body. Sansa swallowed consciously, before quietly calling over her shoulder. "Ser Bronn, if I might borrow your cloak?" Keeping her eyes trained on the shuddering figure, she held out her arm as Bronn gently handed her his heavy cloak, long enough to sweep the ground on a normal sized man. "Please close the door, and stand guard," she said, before moving to kneel close to the only person in the world who had ever come close to her idea of a perfect savior.

_Brienne_. The word caught in her throat, and she suddenly found she could not speak. Her heart ached for this woman who, in such a short time, had wormed her way into a heart that Sansa had long thought incapable of emotion. Instead, she found herself wrapping the cloak gently around the woman's broad shoulders before placing a dainty hand gently on an arm where it shielded a tear-streaked and abused face.

The smallest of gasps, and then with a sudden movement intense eyes of the brightest blue connected with hers and for one, two, three seconds, she was staring into the eyes of her beloved knight...and then they were dead. Full of pain, anguish, and humiliation.

The blonde head turned slightly, but Sansa caught it gently with her other hand, turning it back to face her. "It is over." Sansa said, with a confidence so strong she wondered where it came from. "They will never hurt you again." Brienne's eyes closed, a single tear falling down her cheek as Sansa moved her hand to tie the top of the cloak closed.

Sansa swallowed, once, about to speak again, when there was a distant commotion.

Bronn stuck his head back in, "Better hurry up, I think the guards are changing, and we may encounter a welcoming party if we linger." Sansa nodded to him, and turned back to Brienne. "Can you walk, my lady?" Brienne nodded, looking at the floor. Sansa looked over her shoulder. "Give us a moment, and we will come as quickly as we can." He nodded, unsheathing his blade.

Unsure how best to proceed, Sansa simply stood, and offered her arms to Brienne. "Come. Let me help you." It took some delicate maneuvering, and not a few gasps from the taller woman, but soon she was upright.

Sansa set about fastening the rest of the ties to the cloak so that Brienne's modesty was protected, and then placed and arm around her waist. Slowly but surely they made their way out into the hall. Bronn and Tyrion had been joined by Shea, who stood and rushed towards the women as they emerged. Feeling the way Brienne immediately tensed, Sansa stopped Shea's approach with a subtle shake of her head. "Shea, please see Lord Tyrion back to his room, and then start a warm bath in my chambers. And find some clothes for the Lady Brienne." Shea nodded, and she and Tyrion disappeared into the darkness.

It felt like it took an eternity, but they finally made it back to her chambers.

Bronn insisted on standing guard outside, and Sansa finally got a good look at Brienne as she sat her down on the oak chest at the foot of her bed. A warm bath waited by the fire, but Sansa refused to push Brienne into anything.

She moved to stand in front of her knight, surprised that, when seated, the Maid of Tarth's eyeline was finally equal to hers. "May I, my Lady?" She motioned to the ties. Brienne's eyes closed, and a pained expression flickered across her face. "Lady Sansa, I have not been, nor never will be a _lady_." She paused for a moment, as did Sansa, unsure of what to say. "After today, I could understand if you wish to discharge me from your service." Brienne's voice sounded dead, and Sansa's chest began to ache. "Why would I do that?" she whispered.

"I cannot even take care of myself, how can you trust me to take care of you? I have failed you, I have failed your lady mother, I -"

"Stop." Sansa barely recognized her own voice, but Brienne choked off the rest of her sentence as if gagged. The young Stark moved closer to her, gently taking the large, coarse hand in her small soft one. When she was able to speak, her voice was strong. "You are my knight, Ser Brienne. But like it or not, you are also a woman...and women can be hurt this way. I have experienced it myself on several occasions."

Brienne's face colored with shame, and she looked as if she wanted to die. Sansa knelt next to her on the chest, holding her hand close to her chest. She knew Brienne still blamed herself for not getting to her fast enough. "Hush," she whispered gently, "You are here. We are together. What has happened shows neither a fault in your character or your strength. These injustices done against you were done to hurt me, and for that I must humbly beg your forgiveness."

Brienne raised her head to argue, and Sansa squashed the small urge to smile. Always the protector, aren't you, my lady?

"It is true. No need to deny it. Joffrey went after you because he knew I care about you." Sansa gently traced a bruise on Brienne's cheek. "Since I could not prevent these wounds, at least allow me to mend what I can."

Brienne let out a small sob, and looked away, before nodding slowly.

Sansa smiled encouragingly at this woman who had risked her life on multiple occasions to find her, and had gone through so much in the last few hours for her sake. Brienne would never abuse her or abandon her, as so many others had. She said a silent prayer of thanks to the gods, and vowed to do her best to be worthy of the woman's loyalty.

She moved to untie the robe, and Brienne, blushing, made to help her, but her large hands were clumsy and shaky, and Sansa captured them in her own soft grasp. "Let me." She whispered. The only sign of acceptance the maid showed was to let her hands fall, still facing away. Sansa made quick work of the ties, pulling the robe from her shoulders and setting it aside. She held out a hand and guided Brienne to the tub, helping to ease the pale and muscular form down into the water. Brienne let out a sharp hiss as her womanhood made contact with the heat, but otherwise made no complaint.

Sansa took up a cloth, lathering it up before gently beginning to wash her shoulders and back. Each woman stayed silent, thoughts to themselves, as this progressed on.

'How can I tell her, now, that I love her?' Sansa wondered. This tall, proud woman had been wounded, and Sansa knew she would think Sansa was pitying her. But, in truth, Sansa had never felt more in love in her entire life. And she was in love with a human, not just an ideal.

She had also never felt more useful, more needed, more _alive_. For once she was in charge of her own situation, and she had changed destiny to bend to her will. She felt as if she could walk through fire with this woman by her side.


End file.
